Terminal Experiment by Robert J. Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page B

firing.”
    Sarkar looked impressed. “Have you tried it yet?”
    Peter sighed. “On animals, yes. A few large dogs — I haven’t been able to make the scanning equipment small enough to use on a rat or rabbit yet.”
    “So does this superEEG actually do what you want? Does it show the exact, crisp moment of actual death — the ultimate cessation of brain electrical activity?”
    Peter sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve got gigabytes of recordings of Labrador retriever brain waves now, but I can’t get a permit to put any of them to sleep.” He spread some more mustard on his meat. “The only way to test it properly will be with a dying human being.”

CHAPTER 6
    Peter knocked, then quietly entered the private room in the chronic-care facility. A frail woman about ninety years old was sitting up, the bed’s back raised to a forty-five-degree angle. Two IV bags of clear liquid hung on poles beside her bed. A tiny TV was mounted on a swing arm at the bed’s right.
    “Hello, Mrs. Fennell,” Peter said softly.
    “Hello, young man,” said the woman, her voice thin and hoarse. “Are you a doctor?”
    “No — at least, not a medical doctor. I’m an engineer.”
    “Where’s your train?”
    “Not that kind of engineer. I’m—”
    “I was kidding, son.”
    “Sorry. Dr. Chong said you had a good attitude.”
    She shrugged amiably, the movement of her shoulders taking in the hospital room, the drip bags, and more. “I try.”
    Peter looked around. No flowers. No get-well cards. It seemed Mrs. Fennell was all alone in the world. He wondered how she could be so cheerful. “I, ah, have a favor to ask you,” he said. “I need your help with an experiment.”
    Her voice was like dry leaves crumbling. “What kind of experiment?”
    “It won’t hurt at all. I’d simply like you to wear a special piece of headgear that has a series of tiny electrodes in it.”
    Leaves crumbled in a way that might have been a chuckle. Mrs. Fennell indicated the tubes going into her arm. “A couple more connections won’t hurt, I guess. How long do you want me to wear this?”
    “Until, ah, until—”
    “Until I die, is that it?”
    Peter felt his cheeks grow flush. “Yes, ma’am.”
    “What are the electrodes for?”
    “My company makes biomedical monitoring equipment. We’ve developed a prototype for a new hypersensitive electroencephalogram. Do you know what an EEC is?”
    “A brain-wave monitor.” Mrs. Fennell’s face seemed to be immobile; Chong had said she’d suffered a series of small strokes. But her eyes smiled. “You don’t spend as much time in hospitals as I have without picking up something.”
    Peter chuckled. “This special brain-wave monitor is a lot more discerning than the standard ones they’ve got here. I’d like to record, well…”
    “You’d like to record my death, is that it?”
    “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive.”
    “You’re not. Why do you want to record my death?”
    “Well, you see, right now, there’s no one-hundred-percent accurate way of determining when the brain has permanently ceased to function. This new device should be able to indicate the exact moment of death.”
    “Why should anyone care about that? I have no relatives.”
    “Well, in many cases bodies are kept on life-support simply because we don’t know whether the person is really dead or not. I’m trying to come up with a definition for death that isn’t just legal but is actually — an unequivocal test that can prove whether someone is dead or alive.”
    “And how will this help people?” she said. Her tone made it clear that to her this was what mattered most.
    “It’ll help with organ transplants,” Peter said.
    She cocked her head. “No one would want my organs.”
    Peter smiled. “Perhaps not, but someday my equipment may ensure that we don’t accidentally take organs from people who aren’t yet truly dead. It’ll also be useful in emergency rooms and at accident scenes, to